


Of Garlean Parenting

by stepOnMeZenos



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Bad Parent Varis zos Galvus, Child Abuse, Child Zenos yae Galvus, Dysfunctional Family, Galvus Family Dynamics, Gen, Pre-Canon, Varis zos Galvus POV, Varis zos Galvus-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-14
Updated: 2021-01-14
Packaged: 2021-03-12 08:08:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28757100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stepOnMeZenos/pseuds/stepOnMeZenos
Summary: A string of thefts in the imperial palace keeps Varis yae Galvus busy.
Relationships: Varis zos Galvus & Zenos yae Galvus
Comments: 2
Kudos: 19
Collections: Gen Prompt Bingo Round 19





	Of Garlean Parenting

**Author's Note:**

> This came out way darker than I planned it. 
> 
> For the "Something vital is stolen" prompt.

On a Wednesday morning in the middle of winter, Varis yae Galvus, in line to the imperial throne and yet of unknown standing as His Radiance the reigning emperor refused to name a successor, sat in his study and worked through his weekly pile of paperwork. Much of it was routine, the recurring tedium of mamaging the imperial palace, the responsibilities of which had recently been transferred to him. One had to wonder if that was a targeted slight or not. He was a legatus. He did not have the time to take care of these petty issues, but how could he disobey a direct order from the emperor himself? 

If he crunched through them in the span of one morning, he could keep the overtime he needed to put in to keep up with his other duties to a minimum. That morning had ended up being every Wednesday. Staff complained behind his back over delays when he took up to a week to respond to their requests, but that was the emperor's fault for not appointing a dedicated steward. 

Signed forms went to the pile teetering on the left edge of his overcrowded desk, where a clerk would come to retrieve them later. The rejects, he tossed into the bin right away. A request to repair a broken water pipe in one of the guest suites—approved. A plea to augment the cleaning workforce—Varis consulted the servant payroll, then threw it away. They had more than enough people already; whatever laziness impeded their work was their problem to work around. A report about a food supplier issue, an acquisition request for exotic plants for the imperial greenhouse gardens, an order form for a full set of kitchen knives after… the mysterious gradual disappearance of the existing set? 

Was the kitchen staff stealing again? 

He paused, pen hovering over the paper. He had the authority to have it investigated, of course… but that would only take more time out of his already overloaded schedule. The palace budget was large enough that it didn't matter much if he had to approve more; he'd just downgrade the quality some, as punishment for their negligence and slash or theft. If they were smart, they would not repeat this, or at least be less blatant about it.

On to the approved pile it went. 

The week after, he found a timidly phrased report that even more knives had gone missing. 

“I—I really don't know how this keeps happening, Your Highness,“ the head chef said. She looked as if she was on the verge of crying. “I have _two_ scullery maids watching the knife drawer at all times, and they're both searched before being allowed to leave the kitchen, and the knives still keep vanishing...“ 

She opened the knife drawer. Indeed, some of them seemed to be missing; that was certainly not the full set Varis had ordered. He stifled a sigh. This was exactly the kind of nonsense he didn't have time for. “How long has this been going on for?“

“The first disappearance occurred maybe two months ago. I did not think much of it at the time; 'tis a busy place, sometimes things just vanish, but as time went on, more and more went missing until we had no choice but to request a new set.“ 

Varis pinched the bridge of his nose. “I will employ an investigator. Your pay is docked for your negligence or theft, whichever it is.“ 

The head chef lowered her head. She couldn't be happy about that, but at least she had the wisdom not to argue. If she could not keep her own staff in line and her tools in order, she did not deserve the salary previously afforded to her. 

“If that is all you have to report, then I will take my leave and attend to _more important_ matters.“ He turned around. His shin collided with something. 

Zenos didn't make a sound as he stumbled backwards. He just looked up at Varis with his mother's ceruleum blue eyes. As always, Varis' heart almost seemed to skip a beat. Out of all the things his son could have inherited from his late wife, did it really have to be her eyes…? Seeing them on the face of a five year old boy had never really stopped being unsettling. 

“Oh, welcome, Master Zenos,“ the head chef said. “We made a fresh batch of cakes this morning if you—“

“Don't spoil him,“ Varis interrupted. “His midday meal is in an hour. He does not need cake now.“ 

“Oh, my apologies—he's been coming by for a while now, and what boy his age doesn't like cake, I thought, so—“

Varis glanced at Zenos, who seemed unmoved by the exchange. If he was disappointed, he didnt show it. “Oh, so _that_ is why he hasn't been eating well of late. You are not to feed him sweets without my approval from now on.“ Zenos hadn't done anything that merited treats anyroad. He'd been absent-minded during his lessons, defiant to his tutors… 

“My apologies,“ the head chef repeated. “It will not happen again.“ She bowed, and then scurried away.

“What did you come here for?“ Varis asked his son, whose only response was to shrug. He'd been doing that too of late, simply not answering when being addressed. No amount of disciplining had helped with the matter. It was quite infuriating. Had Varis done this to his grandfather, there would have been hells to pay. 

“I want an answer.“ 

Zenos shrugged again. “I felt like it.“

“Do you have nothing better to do?“ He _had_ at least finished his lessons for the day. Young as he was, he couldn't be expected to sit and learn all day, so Varis had kept him on a half-day lesson plan. 

“I was bored...“ 

Varis sighed. Zenos always complained about that. “You have plenty of toys in your room. Go play with those instead.“ He'd made sure to only procure the best quality toys in all respects. Surely there was something among them that would catch his attention. He was spoiled in that regard, really.

Zenos nodded and wandered away.

How come he was out here without an attendant anyway? Varis had given orders not to let him roam the palace without accompaniment. He was too young, and too tempting of a target for entirely too many people. Someone had to escort him back…

Varis stepped forward, then stopped again. 

Blue eyes, staring at him from a face otherwise so different from his late wife's… 

“You,“ he said to a passing servant. “Take my son back to his rooms post-haste.“

“At once, my lord.“

A week later, the investigator's report made it to Varis' overloaded desk. Inconclusive. None of the kitchen staff had had any stolen goods in their homes, nor were any of them implicated in bartering off palace equipment. Furthermore, two additional knives had gone missing. Varis gnashed his teeth. The investigator simply had to be incompetent. He refused to believe that there was something genuinely difficult to unravel behind this nonsense, and he would not be made the palace's laughing stock by proving himself unable to solve this. 

When he reached the kitchens himself, Zenos' familiar unruly mob of blonde hair just vanished around the corner.

“Did you give him sweets again?“ he snapped at the head chef in lieu of a greeting.

“No, I promise! He said immediately he didn't even want any!“

Did he now? Maybe he'd finally learned that spoiling his own appetite wasn't the way to go. “What did he want, then?“

“He didn't say.“ The chef paused to motion for one of her subordinates to go stir some sauce or another. “I had someone attend to him so he wouldn't get into trouble, but I thought it wouldn't do any harm to let him stay and watch.“

She wasn't wrong. There were plenty of worse things for Zenos to do than watch the cooks do their work, though where this sudden interest came from, Varis didn't know. Maybe he'd come to get candy, then realised it would get him a scolding…

“Be that as it may,“ he said, “I am very displeased over the state of affairs in your domain.“

The chef winced. “I am so very sorry. I've instituted additional measures. All kitchen knives must be accounted for at all times, and those needing to use one must sign their names before retrieving any. It slows us down a little, but, well...“

Sensible decisions, though the fact that they were necessary was embarrassing. “Show me the process,“ he said. 

The chef led him over to the tool drawers. True to what she had said, one of them was attended by not two, but _three_ people. One of them held out a signature board as she approached. She scribbled her name down and opened the drawer.

Then she cursed.

“I can't—they were _all still there_ ten minutes ago! Where did it go?“

“I take it,“ Varis said, “that someone absconded with yet another kitchen knife.“

“Yes. Argh! How does this keep happening?!“

Varis would have loved to have the answer to that. 

“Can I go play, Father?“ Zenos asked.

It was a refreshingly normal question for him, bizarre child that he was. Still, a glance at his dinner plate revealed that he had not yet finished his meal, not even close. “Finish your dinner first,“ Varis said. “Then you can play.“

Zenos nodded and went back to pick at his food. What had brought on this sudden interest in wanting to play? He'd never asked this during their meals before. Under ordinary circumstances, Zenos showed about as much interest in most of his toys as he did in his peers, which was to say, close to none. It made Varis wonder what had gone wrong with him. His physician said there was nothing abnormal, but it wasn't _right_ for a five year old to behave like that. By his age, Varis had already begun forging his lifelong friendship with Regula.

He opened his mouth to ask, then closed it again. Zenos wasn't going to answer anyroad. He'd just look at him with those terrible familiar eyes again. 

They ate in silence. Varis predictably finished long before Zenos did. Maybe he ought to stay around… but he'd said his piece, and there were a few more matters he had to attend to ere the day was over. He tried to make time for family dinners when he could, but today it had thrown a wrench into his plans, and for what reward? Nothing at all. No productive conversations, and no closer to understanding his son.

He rose and turned to Zenos' caretaker, who stood discreetly at the wall. “Take care he finishes his plate. He may do as he pleases after.“

“Of course, my lord.“ 

With that, he left to do more work, and Zenos to his devices.

The cutlery theft continued unabated. The other two investigators Varis appointed did not help; neither did replacing the head chef. Her response to the situation had been sensible and she was very good at her job, but even so, he could not rule out that she was somehow responsible without testing it. 

If anything, her absence only accelerated the disappearances, forcing him to go back on his order and reinstate her. Word of it had gotten out to the court, and whisperings about how he was unable to stop a simple kitchen thief had reached his ears already. His Radiance had even deigned to give him a pointed look and a few choice words about it. 

_Who_ was stealing those knives? What were they doing with them? And why was he bothering signing off on another purchase if they would all end up vanishing anyroad?

He tossed his pen down on the table and rose. If he sat over these forms any longer, he didn't know what he would do to them. Time for a walk, to clear his head and calm down a little. 

Maybe he could go check on Zenos. He _should_ probably do it more often. Children shouldn't expect their parents to be available to them all the time, of course, but though he wouldn't admit it to anyone, he had been avoiding his son too much at times. That was embarrassing too, and he'd had enough of that for the day. 

Zenos had been spending more and more free time in his own rooms, rather than aimlessly wandering around the palace as he had used to; a good development, probably, and one that was rather convenient when it came to tracking him down during the day.

Zenos' retainer sat outside of Zenos' personal rooms. He seemed baffled to see him, which was admittedly not all that surprising; when had he ever stopped by at this time of day? To the retainer's credit, however, he got his act together quickly and gave him a salute. “Good afternoon, your highness. What may I do for you today?“

“Anything to report?“

“Nothing,“ the retainer said. “He has been in his room all day, without making a fuss.“

Varis nodded, unsure what else to ask. An awkward moment of silence later, he pushed the door to Zenos' bedroom open. Zenos sat on the bed, with his back to the door, fiddling with something Varis couldn't see from his angle. The moment the door clicked shut again, he borderline flinched, dropped whatever it was he had been holding and half-turned around.

Varis raised an eyebrow. _That_ was unusual behaviour. “Show me what you have there.“

“Nothing.“ 

“Don't play games with me,“ Varis snapped. “You've been doing something you know you shouldn't have. I can see it. Show me.“

When Zenos didn't answer, he strode forward and around the bed. On the sheets in front of his son lay a long, shimmering kitchen knife. 

“Where,“ Varis said, forcing himself to be calm, “did you get that?“

“...the kitchen,“ Zenos answered a moment later, now unmistakably sullen. He'd never seen him pout like that. 

Calling this infuriating would have been an understatement. All this time he'd had to deal with this utter nonsense, and now it turned out his own _son_ was somehow involved? Varis snatched the knife away from him and examined it. Nothing out of the ordinary. No cuts on Zenos' fingers either, even though he had apparently been playing with _knives_? Why? “Who gave this to you?“

“Nobody.“ Zenos didn't take his eyes off of the knife. He looked like he would snatch it back, if given half a chance. “I took them from the drawer.“ 

“You expect me to believe that? They were watched at all times.“

“The kitchen staff is easy to distract.“ Zenos held out a hand. “I want it back.“ 

Varis shook his head. “Not only are you not getting it back, you will lead me to wherever you hid the other knives now, and I will personally see to it that none are left unaccounted for.“ It was difficult to believe a five year old could have managed something like this, but, well… Zenos had proven himself a gifted child long before today. He _would_ look into how he had circumvented the safety measures, but for now, he wanted to recover those damned knives. 

“I don't want to.“

“I really don't care what you _want_ , boy. Get up and show me where you hid them, or face the consequences.“ 

Zenos had to be deliberately slow as he shuffled off the bed and walked over to one of his cupboards. He opened one of the drawers and stepped back, revealing a pile of pristine kitchen knives, haphazardly stacked on top of each other. Varis wouldn't know for sure until they were counted, but it looked like all of the missing knives might just be in that drawer. 

“ _Why_ would you do something like this?“ he asked. “These aren't toys.“

“I don't care. I wanted to play with them.“

“You are a _plague_.“ Varis tossed the knife he'd been holding into the drawer. Might as well keep them all together for now, until someone could pick them up.. “All the toys I bought for you, and you ignore them all for kitchen knives? Stealing them from the kitchens? Making me out to be the laughingstock of the palace? Why?“

Zenos said nothing. 

“Answer me, boy, or I swear I'm going to ground you in here indefinitely with _none_ of the toys you so clearly don't appreciate.“ 

Varis didn't miss the longing glance Zenos cast at the now closed drawer. It tok a few more moments before he started speaking.

“I like them. They're pretty.“

“You have toy swords aplenty.“

Zenos shook his head. “They're so boring. They don't even cut.“

That was the _point_ , Varis wanted to say. Zenos was _five_ , of course he hadn't been given anything with an actual edge. He also knew those thoughts would be wasted on him, however. His son had never been reasonable when it came to understanding the limits his age placed on him. Always asking _why can't I_ and _why won't you let me_ when the answer was so glaringly obvious.

“In that case, why don't I deprive you of them as well as of the knives?“ he asked. “If you can't appreciate what you have, maybe you shouldn't have anything at all, and there need to be consequences for your misbehaviour.“

Vexingly, Zenos didn't even seem to care much. He kept staring at the knife drawer until the head chef arrived and took them back with her, under strict orders not to reveal where she had retrieved them from. It was only when she had left that his shoulders slumped and his head lowered until he was looking at his crumpled sheets instead. 

“I ought to put you over the knee for this stunt,“ Varis finally said. “Maybe that would put some sense in your head for once.“ His grandfather wouldn't have; he'd never given him corporal punishment. Instead, he would have doled out razor-sharp words that could cut deeper than any kitchen knife. 

“Don't care.“

Bah, again with that attitude. That was no way for a young child to behave. What _was_ he supposed to do about this? Harsh words never worked, and it wouldn't be the first time Zenos had earned himself a spanking. It hadn't helped then, and it wouldn't help now. 

Still, how could he walk back on his words now? He'd threatened him with it, and his son had responded with nothing but sullen defiance. 

He stepped forward, towards the bed.

Later, after he'd left his sobbing son in his room to issue an order to the kitchen staff not to let him enter under any circumstances, he could not chase away the nagging feeling that he had failed at handling that completely. 

As always when this happened, he ignored it. He hadn't done anything outside of Garlean childrearing traditions. Generations of Garleans couldn't all be wrong about raising children. Right?

Right?

**Author's Note:**

> Comments appreciated.


End file.
